


Blueberry

by littleblackfox



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, All the banging, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Bottom Steve, But everyone gets fingers in places, But lets be honest it's mostly porn, Frottage, Hair-pulling, M/M, Porn, Rimming, Shower Sex, Top Bucky, With a smidge of plot, and has a jolly good time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 04:34:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9055561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleblackfox/pseuds/littleblackfox
Summary: Bucky saunters into the apartment with a plastic carrier from the pharmacist and walks right up to Steve, slouched on the couch with his sketchbook. Bucky upends the bag over Steve, spilling a dozen or so bottles of lubricant over him. They roll everywhere, bouncing off his lap and onto the floor.Bucky picks up one of the bottles, gives Steve a filthy wink and saunters off, tucking the bottle into his back pocket.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rohkeutta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rohkeutta/gifts), [Riakomai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riakomai/gifts), [Bohemienne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bohemienne/gifts), [HeartOfTheMirror](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartOfTheMirror/gifts), [PenUltimate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenUltimate/gifts), [DoubleOhWh00](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoubleOhWh00/gifts), [superheroresin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/superheroresin/gifts), [FowlProse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FowlProse/gifts), [queenofthewips (lilithduvare)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithduvare/gifts), [SulaMoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SulaMoon/gifts).



> Porn. Relentless, unadulterated porn for my glorious slumlord Roh and the merry band of filthy enablers.  
> Merry Christmas, you bunch of perverts!

Bucky started it.

Steve wasn’t even sure how it had happened. They’d been best friends since they were kids, had gone to Highschool together, shared a dorm at college and when they’d graduated pooled together their limited resources to get a shitty little apartment together. All that time, Bucky had never once made a move on him.  
To be fair, Steve had never made a move on Bucky, but that was different. Bucky was tall and handsome and popular, not skinny and sarcastic with a long history of medical problems. (But Steve couldn’t say he’d never thought about it. He had. A lot. Pretty much every day since he was fourteen. But still, not the same thing).  
They weren’t even drunk when it happened, just sat on the couch watching an old movie, Bucky laughing while Steve got riled up over nothing.  
Bucky pokes him in the ribs every time Steve starts complaining about the plot and Steve threatens him with a hickey of all things, a great big one on his neck right where everyone could see it. Bucky keeps on poking until Steve wrestles him down to the floor and fastens his mouth over the point where his neck met his shoulder.  
Bucky freezes, hands limp where Steve has him by the wrists and pinned up over his head. Steve knows he should stop, should make a joke or apologise, but he has never backed down from a fight. So he sucks a bruise on Bucky’s throat, and tries not to think how achingly hard it makes him to draw that sensitive skin between his teeth and bite down.  
Bucky lets out a low whine, and if Steve thought he was hard it was nothing compared to Bucky. his cock hot and hard and straining against his jeans. Bucky who could easily break out of Steve’s grip, always the stronger of the two of them, but doesn’t even try, lifting his hips up to meet Steve’s. The friction makes him whine into Bucky’s shoulder, shifting his knees to straddle Bucky’s hips and bearing down with his full weight while Bucky plants his feet flat on the floor and thrusts up to meet him.  
It’s clumsy and just shy of painful but Steve comes with his teeth against Bucky’s jaw, his fingers tight around Bucky’s wrists.

It had been a full week since The Incident, as Steve had taken to calling it. In his head, obviously, as neither of them acknowledge it, or even pretend it never happened. It just sort of hangs, unspoken between them, like the broken line of bite marks that run from Bucky’s shoulder to the sensitive skin just below his ear.  
It’s not that Steve doesn’t want to talk, he just doesn’t know how. Doesn’t want to ask the question if the answer might be no.  
A full week of awkward silence, of lingering looks and fumbling handjobs. A week of clumsy and passionate kisses. And one memorable blowjob.  
Steve spent all day getting himself worked up over the whatever it was between them, and storms into the living room, steely eyed and with the determined set to his jaw that usually means trouble. He stalks over to where Bucky was slouched on the couch in his pyjamas, watching a nature documentary on TV. Steve drops to his knees, yanks down the soft cotton trousers and sucks Bucky's cock into his mouth.  
Bucky lets out a garbled noise, kicks Steve in the shin with a flailing leg and comes with embarrassing speed. And Steve, the little shit, sits back and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and looks triumphant.  
He doesn’t say another word, just gets to his feet with surprising grace and walks off to his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Steve’s triumph doesn’t last long. The next morning Bucky saunters into the apartment with a plastic carrier from the pharmacist and walks right up to Steve, slouched on the couch with his sketchbook. Bucky upends the bag over Steve, spilling a dozen or so bottles of lubricant over him. They roll everywhere, bouncing off his lap and onto the floor.  
Bucky picks up one of the bottles, gives Steve a filthy wink and saunters off, tucking the bottle into his back pocket.  
Steve scowls and kicks the damn things under the couch, calling Bucky every name he can think of. Bucky just laughs. Damn him.

When Bucky goes out to get groceries, Steve pushes the coffee table out of the way and fishes some of them out for closer study.  
Why were there so many of them? Who the hell comes up with the names for these things? What was the difference between silicon based and water based? Why does this one have ginger in it?! (Back under the couch for you, pal!).  
Steve picks the one with the least embarrassing pun name and a pretty label, a sprig of leaves and berries done in pastel shades, and shoves it into his pocket.  
Fine. Game on.  
Bucky returns with groceries and a pizza he picked up on the way home. They eat on the sofa, neither commenting when their feet brush up against the half dozen bottles of lubricant still scattered across the floor.  
After dinner Steve washes the dishes while Bucky dries and puts them away, then quietly grabs Steve by the hand and leads him to his bedroom.

Steve was wrong, he isn't too proud to admit it. Lube is fantastic. Right up there with the internet and deep fried pickles.  
Does it have a use-by date? he wonders as Bucky wraps slippery fingers around his cock. Is there a maximum purchase per store? Can you order it online? Can you order it in bulk?  
Bucky sucks a livid pink mark on Steve's hip, one hand slowly working it’s way over the shaft as he slides his other hand down, cupping his balls and tugging gently before he trails a thumb along his perineum and presses.  
Sparks skitter across Steve’s field of vision and he grits his teeth. Devious fucker, he thinks, twisting around on the bed and grabbing a handful of Bucky's hair, twining it in his fingers and tugging sharply. Bucky tips his head back as Steve pulls and lets out a low moan that makes something hot and relentless unfurl at the base of Steve’s spine. He crawls down the bed, one hand still gripping Bucky’s hair as he swallows down his cock.  
He presses his tongue to the slit, wrapping his free hand around the shaft and sucks. There’s no real finesse to his movements, but Bucky comes with a groan, hot and bitter on his tongue.

Steve waits three days before he retaliates, creeping into the bathroom while Bucky's taking a shower. He undresses quickly, squirts a handful of water resistant lubricant into his palm and climbs into the shower.  
Bucky turns to him, grinning broadly as Steve pushes him against the tiles, flicking his tongue against Bucky's lips until they part, kissing slow and deep and dirty under the hot spray.  
Steve rubs his fingers down the cleft of Bucky's ass, sliding the rough pad of his index finger over the tight furl of muscle and pressing until Bucky let's out a choked little sigh and feels his finger slide in to the first knuckle.  
Bucky groans and bites down on Steve's lower lip, and for a moment he is lost in the sensation. The hot, damp pressure and pulse, the soft sounds that punch out of Bucky's throat when he presses deeper.  
Bucky wraps his hand around Steve's cock and twists his wrist. He licks at Steve’s tongue before closing his lips around it and sucking it into his mouth. Steve shudders and comes, spattering Bucky’s stomach while he strokes him through his orgasm, heavy lidded eyes filled with amusement.  
Steve scowls at bucky, withdrawing his finger carefully.  
"Aww, babydoll. You don't have to stop yet," Bucky grins.  
Steve stumbles out of the shower and stomps off to get dressed.

Steve wakes up and stares at the ceiling for too long. Damnit, but why does Bucky have to be so stubborn? Why can’t he just say something? He crawls out of bed and heads for the kitchen, loading up the coffee machine and turning it on.  
He yawns and tugs up his sleep shorts, ridiculous red things with blue stars that Bucky bought him with the stated intention of 'removing them as frequently as I can get away with, Stevie.'  
It was almost a declaration. Almost.  
Steve shakes his head. He can’t shake the thought that this whole thing is just some sort of game, that the second a pretty girl catches Bucky’s eye he’ll be off again. And then that will be that. No more kissing or touching or fumbling with each others clothes in the dark, and the blueberry flavoured lube he has stashed under his bed will probably expire before he gets to crack it open.

He hears the sound of Bucky getting up as he sets a frying pan on the stove and starts cracking eggs in to a bowl.  
Bucky yawns and mutters a greeting as he comes into the kitchen, still half asleep as Steve whisks up eggs. Steve murmurs a good morning as Bucky moves up behind him and presses a kiss to his shoulder. Steve reaches to tangle fingers in dark hair as Bucky rets both hands on his hips, fingers stroking lightly across the waistband of his shorts. Bucky kisses slowly up his neck, sucking the hollow behind his ear, then slowly slides down the sleep pants over the swell of Steve's ass.  
Steve’s breath catches in his throat as Bucky pulls back, cups both cheeks in his hands and spreads them apart. He hears Bucky shifting behind him, the dull sound of him dropping to one knee. For a moment he can’t breathe, the air trapped in his lungs, and then Bucky leans in, thumbs spreading Steve wide open. When Steve feels Bucky’s breath, hot and damp against his hole he whines, low in the back of his throat.  
Bucky’s tongue, hot and wet and rough, swipes across the twist of muscle, and Steve gasps and scrabbles at the counter, pushing away the bowl of eggs. Bucky chuckles, mouth still pressed to him, and the soft vibration making his left knee buckle and give way. He clings to the kitchen counter as Bucky licks slowly over his hole, flattened tongue catching at his rim and making him gasp.  
Steve whimpers as Bucky points his tongue and eases it slowly into the ring of muscle, pressing and withdrawing in a slow, agonising rhythm. He wraps his hand around Steve’s leaking cock and pumps him lazily, twisting his wrist on the upstroke. Steve lets out a broken moan and Bucky eases his tongue free.  
"Shh," he whispers. “I got you.”  
Steve tries to speak, tries to do anything but whine and shake.  
"Come for me, baby," Bucky murmurs against the base of Steve's spine, sucking kisses to each of his vertebrae. Steve tips his head back as Bucky sucks a bruise on the nape of his neck, feeling like his orgasm is being pulled out of him, ropes of come painting his stomach.

Bucky swipes two fingers through the mess on Steve’s stomach, sliding them between his lips and sucking them clean. Steve would kick him but he’s pretty sure his legs have long since stopped working.  
Bucky kisses him behind the ear. "Can't win 'em all, babydoll."  
Steve bites back a whine. “Fuck you,” he rasps instead.  
Bucky curls his arms around Steve’s waist, lips still moving over over sweet, warm skin.  
“You could, you know,” he breathes. “You only gotta ask.”  
Fine tremors, like little earthquakes, ripple over Steve’s body.  
“Ask?” he whispers. “Ask you what?”  
Bucky presses a smile to Steve’s shoulder and he realises, with sudden, painful clarity, just how blind he’s been.  
“Anything,” Bucky kisses his way along the line of Steve’s jaw, up to the corner of his mouth. “I’ll say yes.”

Bucky herds Steve out of the kitchen and into his bedroom, hands moving restlessly over his hips and sliding under his t-shirt to thumb at his nipples. Steve keens softly as Bucky nips at his shoulder, but puts a palm to his face and shoves him away when he tries to dive in for a kiss.  
“Ugh, No! I’m not kissing you with that mouth!” Bucky chuckles at him. “Go brush your teeth or something.”  
Bucky scrapes his teeth against Steve’s shoulder blade, sending shivers down his spine. “M’kay, but I expect you to be naked when I get back.”  
Steve snorts and shoves at him again, and Bucky saunters off to the bathroom. There is a definite swagger to his movements that wasn’t there before.  
Steve takes off the old grey t-shirt he sleeps in and swipes it across the mess on his stomach. He pulls off his star spangled shorts and sits on the edge of the bed, wondering what’s taking Bucky so long. After a moment of waiting he reaches under the bed and fumbles around until his fingers brush against the bottle of lube that's been languishing there. He grabs it and straightens up, holding the bottle up to the light. The label, with it’s simple illustration of a sprig of leaves and berries, reads ‘Blueberry’.  
He snaps open the lid and takes a sniff, it’s tart and fruity and not unpleasant. He squeezes a little onto his fingers, rubbing them together and feeling the slick, cold glide of skin on skin.  
Really, what is Bucky doing out there?  
Steve comes to a decision, and lies back on the bed. He bends his knees and plants his feet flat on the mattress, letting his hand slide down his thickening cock, caressing his ballsack and down his perineum, pausing at the loose knot of muscle. He takes a deep breath and pushes. It slides in to the first knuckle, smooth and easy and still a little lax from Bucky’s tongue. He presses a little deeper, feels the rough texture of the callouses from holding a paintbrush inside him, and lets out a soft sigh.  
A second finger follows the first, the slightest pinch of discomfort before his body welcomes the intrusion. He scissors his fingers and whines.

“Now there’s a sight for sore eyes,” Bucky says from the doorway.  
Steve flinches, and goes to pull his fingers free, but Bucky tuts at him, stripping off his shirt and licking off his pyjama bottoms as he comes over to sit on the edge of the bed.  
“Don’t you dare,” he murmurs, running the flat of his hand over Steve’s inner thigh. He picks up the bottle of lube. “Blueberry?”  
Steve doesn’t answer, just gives him a look like he’s daring Bucky to comment further and pushes his fingers in a little deeper. Bucky pushes Steve’s knees apart and bends down, his hands cradling Steve’s hips. He runs his tongue along Steve’s stretched rim, sucking at his fingers.  
“Mmm,” he rumbles while Steve shivers and moans.  
Bucky pours lube onto his hand, warming it up before pressing his index finger against the back of Steve’s hand and sliding it between the two fingers he has pushed up inside himself. Steve tips his head back and arches his spine. He cries out, low and long as Bucky works his finger in counterpoint to Steve’s own thrusts. Bucky kisses his thigh, sucking bruises along the creamy skin.  
“I was gonna ask how you want it, but…” Bucky murmurs, amused.  
Steve isn’t too far gone to shove a foot to Bucky’s stomach, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make a point, even though Bucky laughs at him and withdraws his finger. Steve bites back a sob at it’s absence.  
“Like this?” Bucky wraps his hand around Steve’s knee, thumb caressing in slow circles.  
“Yeah,” Steve gasps. “I wanna see you.”

Bucky sits back on his heels, pouring more lube into the palm of his hand and slicking up his hard length, slow and indulgent. Steve watches, dry-mouthed as he lazily strokes himself before pressing a line of kisses down Steve’s thigh. Bucky gently pushes Steve’s hand away and nuzzles at the coarse thatch of dark blond hair between his legs, licking his way up Steve’s cock, hard and heavy. He mouths at the head, pushing his tongue to the slit, slow and teasing until Steve hisses in frustration and grabs a handful of his dark hair, twisting it in his fingers. Bucky moans, a low reverberation that makes Steve’s cock twitch.  
“You like that?” Steve feels like there’s not enough air in the room, but he tightens his grip and Bucky smiles, blissful.  
“Yeah, Stevie,” he answers, unashamed.  
Bucky pouts a little when Steve loosens his grip, but doesn’t complain, kneeling between Steve’s splayed legs and gripping him by the hips. Steve lets out a soft, startled sound as he feels a blunt pressure against the cleft of his ass. A weight, hot and hard and heavy presses into him, thicker than their combined fingers, and slowly withdraws. Bucky moves slowly, so painfully slowly, easing into him inch by inch.  
“C’mon, I’m not made of glass,” Steve grits out.  
Bucky presses his broad palms to Steve’s hips and snaps his hips forward, taking open pleasure in the startled cry it knocks out of Steve.  
“Yeah, you like that?” Bucky pants as he draws out slowly and punches in, fast and sharp.  
“Come on, that all you got?” Steve pants and wraps his legs around Bucky’s waist, pressing the small of his back with his heels and urging Bucky on as he thrusts again, faster and deeper, punching the air out of Steve’s lungs with every stroke.  
“C’mere,” Steve slurs, lifting his arms up and Bucky leans forward, hands either side of Steve’s shoulders and bracing his weight while Steve curls fingers in his hair and kisses him, rough and dirty and deep.  
“Buck,” he gasps between kisses, their bodies moving together. “There’s no one else, okay?” he grips a handful of thick, dark hair and tugs. “No one.”  
Bucky moans, low and desperate. “No one,” he rasps as his cock drags over Steve’s prostate, bright lights sparking behind his eyes. “Never has been. Never will.”  
Bucky presses their mouths together, swallows Steve’s cries as he comes and follows with a last, sharp thrust as Steve spasms around him.  
Bucky catches his breath and starts to pull out, but Steve clamps his legs around his waist, crossing his ankles, keeping their bodies pressed together. “Stay,” he growls.  
Bucky huffs and curls around him. “Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, babydoll.”


End file.
